Killer Bunny Hill

by Denise Robbins

  When her eye caught a flash, she released the memory, and searched for what had drawn her back to now. Wanting a better vantage point, she squatted in front of the ashes. The acrid odor of smoke crawled up her nose, making her eyes tear, and her throat burn. Her gaze roamed over the charred remains, but didn’t see anything. She shifted her position and the moon glinted against an object. Glancing over her shoulder, she verified no one paid her any mind.

  With a finger, Sam brushed aside ashes. In the middle of the pile lay the remainder of some type of ID card. The edges burnt, the photo gone, but the company name was clearly visible in royal-blue letters against a graying white background. “Sixth Element.”

  Did the ID card belong to the corpse? Maybe a patron of Flapjacks? Or had it belonged to the arsonist’s? Shit! This could be a real lead, or a wild goose chase. What should she do? Sam wanted to take the card with her, but that would be tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice, and who knew what else. The last thing she needed right now was to be arrested. But they had to find her father and Max’s brother. Their safety was more important, she justified to herself.

  Sam pocketed the card and stood.

  Fifteen minutes later, Max returned to Sam’s side, halting when he saw the pained expression morph into narrow-eyed concentration, eyes glazed, and unfocused. Her lips set into a thin line of grim determination, he wished he could read her mind, wished he could say something to improve the situation. He couldn’t. He hadn’t learned a damn thing about the dead body.

  Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he started them walking in the direction of Sam’s house. She shivered and he pulled her tighter against him.

  “What did the inspector tell you?” Sam asked, her voice flat and quiet.

  “He couldn’t tell me anything about the remains discovered. That will have to wait until the coroner does his thing. He’ll call when he gets a report. As of now, he is inclined to believe the fire was not an accident, but he can’t say for certain. He’ll let me know when his investigation is complete.”

  “Were you able to get a look at the runner?”

  “What I was able to make out was a black ski mask that covered his face. Best guess he was six feet tall, give or take an inch or two, about one-eighty in weight. The guy could definitely run so he was in shape, and from the way he maneuvered through the area I’d say he was local or at least a regular visitor.”

  “So we wait?”

  “No, now we sleep,” he answered as he pushed open the door to Sam’s house, ushered her inside.

  “I’ve gotta move the SUV into the garage,” Max said. “I’ll lock up on my way back in.”

  “I’ll be upstairs getting out of these smoke-filled clothes.”

  By the time he made it upstairs Sam was in the shower. He contemplated joining her, but decided they were both on sensory overload, and he didn’t want to add to that. Instead, he turned down the covers, and dimmed the lights.

  When Max looked up, she stood at the door with one towel wrapped around her well-toned body, another wrapped around her hair. Either the shower or the vibrant pink of the towels had brought back some color to her cheeks.

  “Let me guess. Your favorite color was pink?”

  “Still is,” she answered, her smile making her face glow. “You should see my business card.”

  “I think I might be afraid to see that,” he teased. “Feel better?”

  She nodded. The movement caused the towel around her chest to slip, and she grabbed the edges to halt its downward slide. “Smell better too.”

  He patted the bed next to him. “You still look like you could drop. You should lie down before you fall down.” His mouth quirked up at one corner as she eyed him with skepticism, her brow arching.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t attack you…tonight.”

  He wasn’t sure she was convinced, but she started toward him. Then she sidetracked to a dresser, and slipped a T-shirt over her head, the towel around her body dropping to the floor in the same fluid motion.

  Max swallowed hard, wondering if Sam realized what she stirred within him. He wanted her. Not tonight, he warned. Tonight they both needed rest, to deal with their own thoughts, and worries. Tomorrow promised to be an even longer, maybe harder day. They had more pieces of an already disjointed puzzle they had to work out.

  He stood, and Sam slid under the covers, tossing the last towel onto the floor. He tucked the covers up around her shoulders, and brushed a kiss to her forehead.

  “I think I’ll go wash this soot off me. Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  Showered, towel tucked around his waist, he stood at the door to Sam’s room watching her sleep. He reached quietly for the knob to pull the door shut.

  “Don’t leave,” she whispered.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he vowed. Ever.

  “Stay with me.”

  * * * *

  Sam awoke. Max hadn’t left her. He had dropped the towel, and crawled into bed with her, naked. His warm body curled against her back, his soft breath against her nape, she had been lulled to sleep.

  She pried her eyelids open, and smiled at the comforting feeling of having Max’s arms wound around her. With a feather-light touch, she ran her fingers across the cut she had stitched. He stirred, stretched, and grinned as one hand cupped a breast through her T-shirt.

  Feeling content, she turned in his arms to look at him in the faint light and snuggled closer, resting her head against his chest. In the silence, the steady beat of his heart drummed against her ear, its rhythm soothing. She traced patterns on his naked chest with a fingertip, then down his hard abdomen, stopping to brush a light kiss against the scar under his right nipple, and another on his left hip. She wondered if he had gotten the wounds from one battle or two, then she wondered just how many more scars he had, and if they all came from fighting the bad guys.

  As she pulled the covers back to see more of Max, her heart squeezed with a tug of jealousy. The idea of another woman kissing his wounds, consoling him, disturbed her. Part of Sam recognized that was insane, and that she needed to get a grip. The other part of her wanted to know who the other woman was.

  She kissed another scar on his thigh, and murmured, “Who was she?”

  “Who?” Max mumbled his voice groggy with sleep.

  Surprised, Sam glanced up, found herself staring into deep amber eyes.

  “Who was who?”

  Sam swallowed the dry lump in her throat. She hadn’t intended for him to hear her. He would distance himself, and she didn’t want that. Crawling back up, she settled on top of his chest, gazed into his face, and asked him direct. “The woman you lost?”

  Max sighed, and looked away. “Sam, what does it matter?”

  It mattered because he hurt and she wanted to take that pain away. “Is she the one who decorated your kitchen?” she persisted.

  “She’s dead.”

  With her fingertips, Sam stroked his cheek with a gentle touch, moved to meet his lips in a tender kiss, and whispered, “Her ghost is between us.”

  Underneath her, Max stiffened, then loosened as his head tilted back, eyes closed. He looked defeated. Sam could let him off the hook, and let it go, but he needed this so she waited patiently, kissing his chest, pressing her cheek to his heart, and offering him comfort.

  When he stroked her hair, she glanced back at him, her heart lifting when she saw his smile.

  “Lucy…” he started.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  “Lucy was my best friend. We went to school together. She was there for Kevin and me after our parents died in a car crash. When I decided to move back into my parents’ house after graduating college, she helped me repaint, and decorate.” Max grinned at the memory. “She said no woman would ever want to marry me if I did the decorating, certain that it would end up with dark stripes everywhere. And as my best friend Lucy would not let me be doomed to a life of bachelorhood.”

  Sam giggled softly.


  “I applied and was accepted into the FBI. About a year later, Lucy did the same, only to a different section. She started dating her supervisor. I warned her it was a mistake.”

  His voice trembled with anger, and Sam reached out to soothe him, stroking his furrowed brow, but he stilled her fingers.

  “It didn’t last long. I transferred to her group, became her partner, and for a while everything was great. We discovered we loved each other, probably always had. Whenever we weren’t on the job we spent every bit of free time together. Until the last assignment.”

  Tears swam in Max’s eyes, and he paused, inhaling deeply before he continued.

  “Right before the last assignment, I asked Lucy to marry me, and she said yes. Apparently, our boss, her ex-lover, caught wind of the engagement, and was not thrilled because when we were overseas he set her up to be murdered.”

  Unable to hold back her astonishment, Sam gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “What did you do?”

  Max laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh of humor.

  “I wanted to kill him, to make him suffer, but I did what Lucy would have wanted. I got revenge through justice and the law. Then I resigned from the FBI.”

  And from his life, Sam thought. Now, Max tried desperately to make certain he didn’t lose someone else he loved to the same organization he blamed for Lucy’s death. She understood.

  “Tell me how you got these scars,” she probed, kissing her way down his torso, her wicked grin lighting her eyes.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Max chuckled. “That’s enough about me.” Hauling her up by her underarms, he planted Sam astride his hips. “Besides, the last time you went down you left me high and dry.”

  Her lower lip stuck out in a pout. “You pissed me off.” She shrugged.

  “That explains it. So is that what I have to look forward to every time we disagree?” He asked while tugging Sam’s T-shirt up over her head.

  In a defensive maneuver, she crossed her arms over her chest, her appearance that of a child.

  “Only when you don’t trust me.”

  That was why she needed to know about Lucy. His heart skipped a happy beat.

  “Mmm. I see,” he murmured, stroking the silky side of one of her breasts. Then he lifted her hips, and slowly slid her down onto him until her warmth enveloped him. Rocking her hips, he watched Sam’s eyes roll back into her head. Her nails dug into his chest, and she moaned. When he felt her muscles clench and spasm around him, he rolled them over, pushed her knees up higher, and thrust. Deeper, faster, increasing the rhythm.

  Sam’s breath hitched, coming quick and erratic, and she dragged her teeth over her lower lip. The gesture so erotic Max heard ringing. Ringing? Sam blinked, not meeting his next thrust, and the ringing was there again.

  Hovering at the edge, Max swore. “Damn!”

  “Don’t answer it.”

  The phone rang again. He moved.

  “Don’t you dare answer that.”

  When it rang the third time, Max grabbed the phone. “What?”

  EIGHTEEN

  “Max?”

  “Yeah. Hello, gorgeous.”

  His tone softened, and he flashed a grin. It must be Betty. Sam went to move and scoot out from under him, but he wouldn’t budge. He held her pinned between his arms and hips.

  “She’s right here. You want to—”

  “Yeah, we heard about the body. No, we haven’t heard who it is. Who was working for you last night? Have you called everyone to make sure everyone has been accounted for? Did anyone switch shifts?”

  “What?” Max asked, his voice rising, and his face scrunched up.

  “What?” Sam whispered. Why did he all of a sudden seem on point?

  “Uh-huh. Mmm. Okay. Let us know if you hear anything.”

  Betty must have continued talking because Max still held the phone to his ear.

  “Oh. Hey, darlin’, can you recommend a good jeweler?”

  Max looked pointedly at her, a wide grin on his face, and for a second Sam’s heart tripped. Then she realized why he had asked about the jeweler. He wanted to keep up the engagement ruse. Smart. The bigger reason to visit a jeweler was to get a lead on the diamonds stashed downstairs in her father’s safe place. Even smarter.

  Knowing exactly where Betty would suggest, she made a disgusted face. Great, she thought.

  Finally, Max hung up.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Betty was just checking in.”

  She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “And?”

  “Turns out, Betty was supposed to work last night but at the last minute she asked someone else to go in for her.”

  “So?”

  Max looked at her, like, duh.

  “So, dear, maybe Betty was the target of that little bonfire. Maybe Betty created the bonfire herself as a diversion of some kind. Her not being there at the last minute means we need to look at it from different angles.”

  “I can’t think with you on top of me.” She shoved at Max’s chest. “Let me up.” She whined and she knew it, but oh, well, the man flustered her. She had to think.

  “You’re suggesting Jacks was involved in all this…this…whatever this is?”

  “It’s possible.” Max shrugged. “If you stop to consider it you’d come to the same conclusion.”

  “Nope.” No way. No how. Jacks loved her father. There was no way she would be on the wrong side of the law. “That restaurant was Betty’s life, her child, a town landmark. She wouldn’t risk it.”

  “Sam, you’re defending with emotions, not logic. Under the right circumstance people can do unthinkable things.”

  “You’re thinking like a guy,” she tossed back. “Just because your ex-boss was a scum-sucking, bottom-feeder doesn’t mean everyone is.”

  Max held his tongue for several long seconds, and Sam thought she had pushed him too far. Bringing up what he just shared with her was too low a blow.

  “You need to wise up. Not everyone is good. Sometimes they look that way, when really they’re the devil in disguise.”

  His words were controlled and calm, but Sam felt the underlying tension, saw the way he squeezed his hands into fists at his sides. Time for retreat.

  Sam scooched off the bed and left the room, slamming the door to the bathroom behind her. Men. Sometimes they were too logical. Sometimes instinct was more important. More accurate. She could not, would not, believe Betty was involved in blowing up her restaurant or in hurting her father.

  With no regard for her privacy, Max walked in on her.

  “Schmuck.”

  “You don’t have to agree.”

  “I don’t,” she snapped.

  “But we’re going to be cautious,” he continued. “With everyone. We are not going to take any unnecessary risks. Agreed?” he asked, pulling her into his embrace.

  How could she disagree with a naked man whose kisses made her toes curl? Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, Max had a point. No risks.

  She nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Thank you.” He set her away from him. “Now get dressed, we’ve got some ring shopping to do.” Then he left her.

  * * * *

  Sam found Max sitting at the dining room table with the envelope that held the diamonds and the USB drive they’d found.

  “What’re you doing with those?” she asked, stepping closer to him.

  “Here’s my idea,” he said. “We need to pick out a couple of the stones and take them with us to the jeweler. We may have to go to more than one jeweler. Hell, we may have to drive into Boston, you know, bigger city, easier to hide something in plain sight.

  “Anyway, we take a couple of the diamonds in and tell them we’re looking to get them set into an engagement ring. Before we do that, we need an appraisal done on them. That way I make certain I’m giving my future bride real gemstones and not synthetic.”

  “Won’t they wonder why you don’t know?”

  “Nah. We’l
l tell them a family relative left them to me, but I hadn’t located any GIA paperwork.”

  “That’s plausible,” Sam agreed.

  Max smiled, and then spilled the diamonds onto the table. Sam watched as the gems shimmered and danced, then winked at her in the morning sunlight.

  Sweeping his arm out across the table, he asked, “Which ones do we take?”

  Sam played her fingers across the gems. Spread them out for a better look.

  “They’re all so beautiful,” she murmured, awed by their brilliance. “I’ve never really been into jewelry, but with these I can see why they’re a girl’s best friend.”

  Between his thumb and forefinger, Max held up two diamonds. “Too beautiful. Too perfect.”

  Her gaze held by the stones, Sam replied, “What do you mean?”

  “Look at them. Closely. They’re all clear, no flaws that I can detect, and they’re mostly identical in size.”

  Max lined up a few on the table, and Sam looked. He was right. They were all the same. Adding more to his line-up didn’t change the uniformity.

  “Synthetics?”

  “The jeweler can tell us for certain, but my guess is, no. I mean synthetics wouldn’t make any sense. Why would anyone kill for fakes?”

  He swept three diamonds aside. “We’ll take these.”

  Sam picked up the envelope to scoop the others back into it, and felt something still inside. Flipping it over, nothing fell out. She peered inside, but didn’t see anything. Something was lodged in the corner. She edged her finger between the folds of paper, and her fingernail caught on something. With a crook of her finger, she coaxed it out.

  NINETEEN

  “What the hell is that?”

  Max picked it up and eyed it critically, turning it this way and that. It was the same color as the diamonds, but it was thin, flat, and square. Not as clear either. Holding it not an inch from his face, he tried to see what was different about it. The damn thing was too small to tell.